


Axiom

by Extrinsical



Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: F/F, Post-3x10
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-26
Updated: 2015-06-26
Packaged: 2018-04-06 07:19:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4212876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Extrinsical/pseuds/Extrinsical
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is how the story goes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Axiom

One-shot | this is where they will be | 8,638 words  
Post-Season 3. There will be spoilers.

_BGM:[Orphan Black Season 1 Finale Theme - Endless Forms Most Beautiful - by Trevor Yuile](https://listenonrepeat.com/?v=BdJ4TstZCDw#Orphan_Black_-_Season_1_-_Finale_Theme_by_Trevor_Yuile%20)_

. . .

1.

This is insane, she thinks as she paces. The very definition of _insane_.

"Delphine - " The woman in front of her takes a step forward, and it's instinct and fear that makes her take a step back as she eyes the gun held loosely in that hand.

The brunette halts, something indefinable flashing past dark eyes.

She tries to collect herself. It's not as if she can help it - getting _kidnapped_ by a _clone_ and then being taken to this warehouse with nothing but a few chairs and dilapidated furniture in sight is more than just a little nerve-wracking.

"I - you - I'm sorry, but - " she hesitates, forces out a chuckle. "I feel as if this is a test of my loyalty."

Even as she says it, she knows that is not the case. Neolution do not tolerate traitors, even suspected ones **.** There will be no tests, only blood. Her blood.

But this is just too hard to _believe_.

"It's not a test." A huff that's half-insulted and half-annoyed. "And there's no way in hell I'd be a part of Neolution," the other says as if she expects her to _know_ that.

She doesn't.

"You do understand why I am having a hard time believing this?" she asks slowly, pauses, then continues tentatively with the name she had been introduced with. "...Sarah?"

Another flicker in that gaze - something haunted, brittle and world weary.

"Shit," she laughs bitterly, running a frustrated hand past long dark hair. "you really don't remember. I thought you were bluffing."

She has absolutely no idea what this clone is talking about.

"I don't - "

"Does the name Cosima really not ring a bell for you, Delphine?"

Her brows furrow.

Sarah is looking at her warily, perhaps even with the tiniest hint of hope.

She's almost sorry to say what she says next, because she has only ever seen that name printed on papers in the file titled _324B21_.

"...Non."

. . .

2.

"Really? _Really_ , Sarah? As if kidnapping her was a good idea, bombarding her with all that information was _of course_ an even better idea - "

"What else did you expect me to do, Fe?!" the British woman protests. "It was the only opportunity we had to get her back! You saw how tight the security was!"

"Yes, yes, I get that. But literally spewing all those details? Why the hell did you think she would believe you?" the man who introduced himself as Felix shoots back in exasperation. " _I_ wouldn't believe you, for god's sake!"

Sarah scowls, shifting from foot to foot with restless energy, and looks away. "Well, she's here right now. And I've kept her here for the past three days. It's not safe and we need to move."

Silence reigns.

It's clear what that means.

They can't let her go because there's too high a chance that she will report to Neolution about what happened. There's also an equally high chance that Neolution will kill her instead if she is branded a traitor because of this.

She has, after all, been missing for far too long.

Sarah Manning, she thinks with morbid humor, will be the cause of her death.

The two - foster siblings? - kidnappers turn to her with something hesitant, welcoming yet not quite, in their postures.

"We are taking you with us." Sarah, firm and guarded. "Don't fight us or try to escape. I _will_ sedate you."

Take her _where_?

"Sarah," Felix says, almost with shocked disbelief, "she's looking at us like we're lunatics that escaped from an asylum."

The clone sighs. "I know."

Can they _really_ blame her for that?

. . .

3.

Siobhan - otherwise known as 'Mrs. S' - looks at her with complete stoicism.

"Do not try to escape," she says simply, "you can't."

She scans the homey lounge from where she is seated on the sofa, then glances out the window where only a vast, plain field and thick trees in the distance lay.

Her fists go white.

Delphine looks back at the older woman. "Why am I here?"

Dark eyes study her for a moment, looking at her as if searching for something that cannot be found. Felix, leaning against the wall, mutters something she can't catch under his breath.

"Felix," the reprimand from Siobhan comes even as Sarah elbows him in the stomach.

His mouth closes with a huff as he bats that offending arm away.

"No harm will come to you," Mrs. S says. "I promise."

She can't help the frown that forms on her face.

"I don't know any of you," she speaks at last.

"You will," it is Sarah who says this, unyielding and determined. "We will help you remember."

She does not understand why they are so invested in her memory. Uncertainty and confusion gnaw in her stomach.

"Why am I here?" she repeats the question warily.

Sarah hesitates.

"You don't belong to Neolution, Delphine." There's something stubborn glinting in those eyes.

And for reasons she can't decipher, it looks _familiar_.

Her head begins to pound, but she forces herself to focus. "So I belong to you?"

"Th - that's not what I meant." Sarah looks awkward. Felix actually looks amused.

_Merde._

She feels the frustration and exhaustion stemming from the long journey and frayed nerves thrum in her blood. "You want me to trust you," she says bitingly. "Yet the information you provide is vague at best, if not insane."

The clone winces, looking somewhat chastised yet not quite apologetic. "I know but - "

"In good time, Delphine," Siobhan chooses to cut in then. "It's been a tiring trip for you, I'm sure - you should rest."

Her lips presses into a thin line.

"As if I have a choice?"

Sarah, to her cold satisfaction, does flinch this time. But then she hardens, straightens, and her words are firm. "We are trying to protect you, Delphine."

Protect her? From _what_?

She looks over all three of them warily, breathes in deeply, and summons the stoic facade that she automatically seems to know how to put on. She wonders if it is something she had practiced in the past.

"The only danger that I see," she says coolly, "are the people in front of me."

Sarah's fists tighten.

. . .

4.

i) This is the persona that Sarah paints for her.

She was from DYAD, and had switched sides to help them. She was a friend. A good friend. And someone dear. She protected them, and went missing after. They (Sarah would not clarify who 'they' were) had been looking for her, searching high and low only to come up with nothing.

ii) This is the persona Neolution paints for her.

She was (is) a member of its board. She was one of its driving forces. She was part of the team that oversaw project Leda and Castor. As a high profile member of its board and the clone projects, she had been a target of kidnapping and assassination - and the scarring gained from a gunshot wound in her abdomen was evidence.

iii) This is what Delphine Cosmier knows to be the absolute truth.

Her memory is a blank slate. She does not remember anything beyond the point she woke up only to gaze into a mismatch of grey and unnatural blue-silver-black eyes. Yet, there is muscle memory in her fingers of holding scalpels and needles, and in her mind is a wealth of scientific knowledge - of the body, of immunology, of treatment procedures, and of clones.

iv) And this is the difference.

She is a scientist that draws logical conclusions based on evidence. The fact that Sarah refuses to explain in detail does not help the clone's position. Too sketchy, too vague, too rushed, whereas everything that Neolution has told her comes with tangible evidence.

There is a scale of trust that she imagines in her head, and this scale is tipping far and towards Neolution.

. . .

5.

The second clone she meets introduces herself as Cosima Niehaus, and her gaze is open and haunted and infinitely sad.

"Here," the clone says, offering her a small brown paper bag like a peace offering. "This is for you."

She accepts it cautiously.

"What is this...?" she asks.

"Truffles." A pause before Cosima speaks again. "Your favourite."

Their eyes meet, one searching, the other blank.

She likes - liked? - truffles? That's news to her. But then again she had been recovering from her injuries - and it is only quite recently that she had been released… and before Sarah Manning kidnapped her. That doesn't leave much time for her to explore luxuries, does it?

Delphine places the bag on the table gently, and shakes her head.

"I do not remember. I'm sorry." _I don't even know if you are speaking the truth_ , she doesn't say.

Cosima breathes in deeply.

"I know." A wry smile quirks up on those lips. "Will you try one anyway? I promise you'll like it."

She eyes the clone guardedly, whose gaze remains sad and hurt and raw for reasons she can't understand. It makes a seed of doubt grow in her chest - that maybe, just maybe, there is some truth to the wild stories painted by Sarah.

That, or Cosima Niehaus is an incredibly good actor.

Either way, a part of her thinks, a real smile lined with joy will look so much better on the clone, rather than one curled with sadness.

So she nods, and watches as the expression on Cosima's face lightens.

Delphine discovers that she _does_ like truffles.

. . .

6.

"I would have gone for the slow approach," Cosima says wryly, if not a little nervously in an oddly endearing way, "except Sarah has already bombarded you with all the big stuff without explaining. I know you'd need the details now."

Of that, the brunette is correct. A part of her also can't help but note Cosima's choice of words - _I know_.

And Sarah… Sarah tries hard to make her understand, believe, yet the details she provides is often riddled with holes that she can easily poke at. It's often more than a little frustrating and tense when it comes to listening to the British woman.

"Don't blame her," Cosima eyes her softly like she knows what Delphine's thinking. "You are with… I mean, Neolution got to you. That means there are still some things we can't say. Because if you can't remember and went back to them…" The sentence trails off.

That, at the very least, she can understand.

So she nods.

And so the clone spins a tale that makes her eye them doubtfully, because, really. If the story that Sarah painted for her had been insane, the one that Cosima paints is even more unbelievable. But at least she does explain and clear up details, and tells her upfront when there are some aspects she cannot talk about.

But still.

Cosima's monitor? She can believe that, maybe. But switching sides to help the clones? Worked with Cosima? Was a close companion? Searched for a cure? Became the director of Dyad to protect them? A martyr who put herself in danger for the clones?

"Trust me," Cosima says, pleads, something infinitely sad in her gaze. "I know it sounds crazy, but it's all true."

For a moment, she just stares, something ghostly tickling in her mind, too quick to grasp.

Her head throbs, harsh and fast. She brushes a hand past locks of blonde hair and digs her fingers into her scalp as if trying to contain the pain.

"Delphine?" Concern and alarm overtakes the sadness in those eyes. "What's wrong?"

"I - " _Trust me._ Why is that phrase so familiar? "I'm - "

Her heart pounds. She's dizzy. She can hardly breathe. It _aches_.

 _Trust me,_ the phrase echoes in her own voice, as if she has pleaded for something similar to someone dear to her.

"Delphine?" Hands reached out to grasp her face, warm fingers curling by the sides of her jaw and neck. "Look at me. Focus. Breathe."

She does.

Its a long minute before her breathing calms marginally and the grip she has on her scalp loosens a tiny bit.

"Did you remember something?" Cosima asks carefully.

"I - I'm not..." She's resistant. She doesn't believe this clone is to be trusted. She doesn't understand the phantom imprint of those words nor the meaning of it. But the pain makes her _dizzy_ -

"Tell me. Please." Dark eyes searches her own. "What did you remember?"

It's as if something is trying to burst into life in her head. Her fingers press back against it, willing it to contain itself and disappear.

Cosima's gaze travels from her face to where she's pressing hard against her skull, something speculative and cautious in her eyes as she looks at her tense fingers. But she doesn't reach out, save for grasping her wrist, thumb caressing the inner side of it gently.

"Talk to me, Delphine," a quiet whisper. "Please trust me."

"I - " she tries to work her mouth open through the pain. A string of curses in her native language leaves her mouth.

 _Trust me. Trust me._ Her head throbs.

"I said that before - " she manages through clenched teeth, "I - I remember saying 'trust me' to someone before. To someone -- someone _important_."

Cosima freezes.

In that moment, the clone looks like an open book, despite how her head hurts and how hard it is to focus. On that face is something incredibly sad and anguished and timeworn with regret, so much so that it bleeds into her posture and the way her small frame seems to sag.

And for a second - for the briefest of a second - she wants to comfort the clone and say _it's okay_.

Then the pain spikes, and she gasps.

"Delphine!"

Her head drops into the curve of Cosima's shoulder, her vision spins -

Loud footsteps thump against the wooden floorboard, even as the brunette maneuvers her to lie on the sofa as gently as she could.

"What happened - "

"Oh my god, she's bleeding - "

"Get me my kit on the table, Felix!"

She blacks out with frantic dark eyes and the white ceiling being the last thing she sees.

. . .

7.

"They did something to her."

"Cos - "

"I should have made her stay, Sarah."

"You didn't know."

"No," a trembling whisper. "That's the problem."

"Hey. You can't blame yourself. You know how she's like - she doesn't _say_ stuff. And she's here with us now, Cos."

"Is she? Really?" A long exhale. "Sarah, she doesn't even recognize us. She doesn't know who _I_ am."

"We will help her remember. You said it yourself - she remembered something."

A bitter laugh. "Right. She remembered the moment when _I_ had hurt her."

"Cos, you can't keep - "

A sharp wave of hand. "I know. I know. I just - " She cut herself off.

"Just?"

"I - " Shuddering breath. "I didn't know how much it hurts to not be trusted."

. . .

8.

Delphine watches her blood filter into a tube from the needle stuck into her arm, even as Cosima caps a vial already filled with red fluid and places it on the table.

"You know," the clone breaks the silence at long last, "you used to do this for me."

She blinks. "Moi?" A pause. "I mean, me?" she corrects after a moment, suddenly realizing that she has no idea if Cosima speaks French.

The corner of Cosima's lips quirks up. "Yep. On top of being my monitor, you were my doctor."

"Ah."

"And now I'm doing it for you." Fingers move to unhook the vial filled with blood from her arm, and replaces it with another empty bottle. "It's kind of weird that the situation is reversed now, don't you think?"

"Why was I taking your blood?"

"Research. Monitoring. Seeing if I was going to die anytime soon. Looking for a cure."

"And you are alive now," Delphine comments.

She remembers what she read - _324B21_ , at last recorded notes, was reaching the terminal stage of her sickness. But that record wasn't even close to being up to date, what with Ethan Duncan's legacy and the original coming to light with too little information of them available.

Dark eyes turns to meet her, something wry in that gaze. "I am."

She nods, feeling a smile form despite herself. "I'm happy for you." And she truly is.

Something flickers in Cosima's expression, too quick to catch, before the clone turns back to her arm. "That's the last one," the brunette says, pulling out the vial, the needle, and pressing an alcohol-soaked cotton to the needle wound. "Press on it, will you?"

"Mm." She takes over the task of pressing the cotton even as she feels a sting that ebbs away after a moment, and watches as Cosima packs up the kit with the vials filled with blood lined by the side.

A long silence falls over them, until Delphine breaks it again.

"Would you have taken my blood still if I didn't agree to this?"

She watches the smaller woman's shoulder tense. "Yes," is the honest response. "I need to know if they did anything to you. And I think you would want to know too."

That is true. She does want to know.

What she doesn't know is if she can trust this clone who spins tales about the possibility of Neolution tampering with her body, among other things.

"What are you expecting to find in my blood?"

Cosima pauses, drums her fingers on the kit, and turns to her. "I don't know," she says soberly, eyes dark and without humor. "But we will find out."

The thought of it still makes a shiver go down Delphine's spine.

There are so many uncertainties warring in her, starting from not knowing who she should believe in, to whether she has been tampered with and - and - it's all just so _bewildering_.

Cosima watches her for another moment longer. "You should join me."

She blinks. "Pardon?"

"It's your body. Your biology. You've a right to know what's going on with you, Delphine."

She gives her a guarded look. "I thought you wanted me to focus on getting my memories back."

"I do." Cosima's sad gaze lingers before dropping to the vials. "But it's just as important for us to know what they've done to you."

Another pause.

"Besides," the brunette continues, "it might help jog your memory too, being in a lab. Familiar environment and all that. What do you think?"

For a long moment, she is silent.

Then she nods. "Okay."

Something like haunting relief flickers in dark eyes.

Cosima reaches out to squeeze her hand. "I know you don't trust me yet, but thank you for giving me a chance."

Returning the gesture, Delphine thinks, is not a good idea. She still doesn't know what to think, who to believe, or how to even swallow all the wild and insane stories given to her.

But she squeezes her hand back anyway.

. . .

9.

Against all odds, Delphine cannot help but be charmed by this woman brimming with energy and excitement and a large, genuine grin that finds its way to her face so easily. The fact that Cosima is just as much of a scientist that she is helps, too.

It's easy to listen to her, to talk, and to answer the questions Cosima has despite the mistrust and suspicion that lingers, and despite that she still cannot remember anything yet beyond that one time she blacked out.

This moment is one of them.

Cosima's knuckles go white.

"What do you mean, you were _shot_?"

Delphine eyes her carefully, evaluating, and taps at her abdomen, feeling the scar through the thin clothing she wears.

"I was shot here. Attacked by someone unknown." A pause. "Or so I was told."

Something unreadable flashes past dark eyes.

"Do you… do you mind if I take a look?" Cosima gestures at the general direction of her stomach.

A long pause.

Then she nods, lifting her shirt up partially to reveal flesh.

Cosima comes close, peering at it, hesitant fingers brushing against the pale scar gently.

The touch sends a shiver down her spine, but she stamps it down and watches the myriad of emotions play on the brunette's face instead, and how those eyes darken with every second.

"No exit wound?" It is a clinical question, but the voice that says it is a hoarse whisper.

"There is."

"Ah."

Silence.

"When did you get shot?"

Her head tilts in thought, and she glances down at the scar. It hasn't quite faded yet, still a little puckered - and the doctor in her knows that it is a difficult question to answer. The smaller the wound, the quicker the healing… and there are too many variables to say for sure when this happened.

"On account of the records provided to me," she says instead, "December 3."

Cosima tenses, retracting her hand. Delphine lets the grip she had on her shirt fall away.

The brunette shudders out a breath and looks utterly _broken_.

Her brows furrow in concern.

"Cosima?"

"Dammit, Delphine." That voice cracks. "That's the last day I saw you before you went missing."

. . .

10.

"Sooo… what do you think?" Cosima is looking at Delphine with some sort of nervous excitement brimming around her.

Her head cocks to a side. "About the lab?" She eyes the surrounding, noting the positions of the benches and tables and -- a rug and couch by the corner?

"Yeah."

"It… " she pauses. "It looks nice." Like a typical laboratory save for that one particular corner, so to speak.

"It doesn't have all the things we used to have - you know, since we don't have infinite funds like in Dyad and all that. But I had it arranged to look similar to the one we worked in."

"Ah." So that's the reason for the excitement. She observes her surroundings more closely, this time, trying to see if anything may jog her memory. Her gaze lingers on the couch, still stuck on the oddity of having that in a lab of all places but…

There is nothing that comes to mind.

Her gaze turns back to Cosima, who's looking at her like she's trying to not be _too_ hopeful.

It makes Delphine not want to disappoint her, but there is nothing else she can say, so she shakes her head. "I don't remember. I'm sorry."

The brunette visibly deflates. "No, no, that's okay. I just thought I'd try it."

Delphine watches her for a long moment. Given that she was supposingly Cosima's monitor, and a close companion, she supposes that it makes sense for her to try -- wait. Close companion in _what way_? That little bit, she realizes suddenly, has never been explained to her.

By Cosima's reaction, they were (are?) evidently close. Plus there was that moment when Sarah had asked if her name rang a bell…

"How close were we?" she asks abruptly.

Cosima freezes and looks up at her warily. "What do you mean?"

Delphine eyes her carefully. "You said I was your monitor. Doctor. Colleague. What else was I to you?"

It's a very, very long moment before the brunette speaks, hands moving to stick into the pockets of the white coat she's wearing.

"I'm not sure if there's one word that will describe what you are to me, Delphine." There's something infinitely sad in those dark eyes again, timeworn and pained and haunted. It makes her want to chase them away and put the light back in there.

And more than ever, it makes her want to know what exactly she is to this woman.

"...Will you try?" she asks quietly after a moment.

A long pause. Then, a slow nod.

"You are -- " Cosima falters, shakes her head, and takes in a deep breath. "You were my confidante." A pause. "Well, sort of. I mean. I've told you things I never told anyone else - not even my sisters."

Her eyebrows almost shot up at that. "Even when you were self-aware, and knew that I was your monitor?"

Cosima does smile at that. "Yes," dry words. "Even then."

Interesting, assuming it's the truth. That speak volumes of the relationship they had. "What else?"

"We were close." Cosima's gaze strays from her own to the bench. "You were closer to me than anyone else, save maybe my sisters. A lot of what you did to help me and my sisters was because of how close we were. You protected me. You… put yourself in harm's way for me."

Silence.

"You said I was your confidante," she says after a moment. "But 'sort of'. What does that mean?"

At that, the clone looks back up and at her, the corner of her lips tilting up in a sad way. "You don't miss the little details, huh?"

It's another pause before Delphine responds to that. "I don't think I can afford to," she says, honest but not unkind.

Cosima nods, understanding but still sad. And hurt. Dark eyes remain on her as she speaks. "By confidante I mean that I've talked to you about my fears. You've seen me vulnerable. You've seen me hurt. You know who I am. You could have used them against me if you wanted to."

The words are said with such bluntness that it makes Delphine blink in surprise.

"...I - I see."

"Yeah."

There's more, Delphine knows. More that Cosima is not saying. And a part of her wants to press on, get the details, dissect them, and understand them. In addition, if she does ask… she has a feeling that Cosima will answer her despite how much it may hurt to say them.

It is evidently already taking a toll on the woman in front of her.

So she doesn't ask.

. . .

11.

This is what Cosima Niehaus doesn't tell her.

She does not speak of how she realized something was _strange_ on that day when hazel eyes looked at her with so much affection, relief, and joy, and when Delphine kissed her one last time (why why _why didn't she push_ \- ) before disappearing completely.

She does not describe the sinking feeling she had when Shay shows her the card with _324B21_ penned down in gold ink by the side, in a writing so familiar to her and knew for certain then that something had gone terribly wrong.

She doesn't narrate how she (and Scott) finally found the cure, and how she was finally, _finally_ , healing - because there was just as many heartaches during this time, and she would have given up (she _wanted_ to) if it wasn't for their little group of ragtags.

(Sarah, who kept pushing and telling her, _we'll find her, Cos. We are doing everything we can._ Alison, who took care of her and made her eat and bathe, _you are staying right here where we can watch you. Understand?_ And Felix, who was always free with his hugs and let her lean against his shoulder, _You'll be fine, love_.)

She does not recount the pain and anguish they caused each other, of secrets and things that should have come to light and didn't, of betrayals and what turned out not to be betrayals, and of things she had been too blind to see.

She does not talk about the kisses that she longs for, needs, and the way Delphine would often brush her knuckle against her jaw, touch their foreheads together, soothe her, and sometimes murmur affectionate words in a language that she couldn't understand but somehow understood anyway.

She does not tell her about how she could have despaired, or how she could have gotten lost in her frantic search for Delphine - all of which could have happened and did not because, despite everything, she had remembered this: _We all have our part to play - me, Sarah, Alison. But yours is to cure. Yourself and all of your sisters._

Most of all, this is what she doesn't tell Delphine Cormier.

She loves her.

. . .

12.

"What was I like?"

Cosima glances over from where she is scribbling some notes. "Come again?"

Delphine leans a hip against the table and crosses her arms. "What," she repeats, "was I like?"

Dark brown eyes stares at her. A heartbeat later, Cosima drops her pen and swivels her chair around to face the taller woman properly.

"You were…" a pause. "You?" she tries while beaming at her. There's a glint of mischief in those eyes.

"Don't be cheeky." Delphine smiles anyway despite herself. "I'm asking for details, Cosima."

"It describes you perfectly," the other protests.

"Brat," is all she replies with, half-fond and half-exasperated.

Cosima laughs a little, before looking at her thoughtfully with fingers drumming against the armrest.

"You were… strong." There's still humor in those dark eyes, but there is also sadness and something wistful. "Intelligent. Occasionally sarcastic. Brave. Loyal. Selfless." A pause. "And you were sometimes so _, so_ frustrating that I wanted to strangle you."

Her brows climb. "I frustrated you?" she asks curiously. "How?"

The other eyes her for a moment longer before explaining, if a bit wryly. "You had a tendency of doing things for me behind my back. Even when I said not to. Even when you knew how I would have reacted. You did it again and again."

A pause.

"What sort of things?"

"Things that made me angry." Cosima's gaze wanders to the bench.

The silence stretches.

"Are you still angry with me?" she asks then.

Another pause, then:

"Yes." The fingers drum against the armrest. "No."

Amusement lines her next words. "Yes and no?"

"Well… " the clone trails off and shrugs. "It's both? I guess. Sort of."

Delphine gives her a bemused look and has no idea what else to say beyond, "That's… how do you say -- very… contradictory?"

A ghost of a smile flits past Cosima's expression, and her gaze is dark and unreadable.

"I suppose it is."

. . .

13.

Delphine's head snaps up from where she is looking at slides to see the other trip over with a yelp behind her - and towards the glass cabinet.

"Cosima!"

Alarmed, her hand shoots out to snatch Cosima's hand before she can crash into it. But she may have put too much power into her sharp tug, or maybe she overestimated how heavy the other is - because the woman crashes onto her and the next thing she knows is her back hitting the cold floor.

"Ack! Sorry, sorry, my bad -- are you okay?"

Delphine winces at the impact that makes her back and head sting, her grip on Cosima's waist tightening by instinct.

Her gaze moves to meet the clone's panicked one - only to freeze as she stops breathing.

Their faces are just inches apart. Realization seems to dawn on Cosima at the same time. And this close, she can see the irises within those dark eyes, the eyeliner, rimmed glasses, the smooth outline of her cheeks and ever-existing dimple, lips --

The warmth on top of her makes her heart pound, and something is tickling at the back of her mind like a persistent, lingering phantom.

She recognizes those eyes. Recognizes the warmth. Recognizes the way her hand curls around Cosima with such ease like she's done it a thousand times before, much like how she wields scalpels and sensitive equipment without a second thought.

She doesn't remember, but she _recognizes_.

" -- phine? Delphine. _Delphine_."

She snaps out of her daze, only to realize Cosima is now kneeling by her side and is making her sit up with a hand on her back and another curled around her wrist.

Dark brown eyes is looking at her worriedly. "Are you okay? Did you hit your head hard?"

All Delphine does is stare at her like she's seeing her in a new light, like she has discovered something both wondrous and terrifying.

And perhaps it is.

What does it mean to be able to recognize, but not remember?

What if she _never_ remembers?

What then?

"Delphine…?" Cosima looks uncomfortable and panicky, laughing awkwardly. "Please tell me you don't have a concussion." A gentle hand reaches out to search for a bump at the back of her head.

She forces her dry mouth to work. "Non. I - I'm fine."

"Okay," the other says slowly, hand still tangled around locks of blonde hair, pressing and searching gently for a bump. The touch _soothes_ her, and it makes her want to close her eyes. "Just to be on the safe side, we should check - "

She shakes her head then, leans away from the touch, and grips that elbow, bringing it down until they are at eye level and their faces inches apart again. Cosima's wide, startled eyes blinks back at her.

"What were you to me, Cosima?"

The smaller woman stills.

Her grip tightens.

"Were you important to me?" she goes on to ask.

Silence.

Cosima looks at her with something indecipherable in her eyes, and swallows. "Yes. I was." A wry, vulnerable pause. "Just like you are to me."

Present tense, she can't help but note. Cosima is using present tense.

"How much?" she asks.

A heartbeat of silence, then: "Too much."

Delphine searches her gaze for a moment longer, before lifting a hand to brush against Cosima's jawline, thumb moving to trace her cheek.

"Cosima," she murmurs with a faint smile. " _Chérie_ , a sad look doesn't suit you." _Even if it makes you look beautiful... in a broken, tragic way._

Cosima laughs, startled again for reasons she is unsure of, but it comes out more as a weak, cracked huff. It makes Delphine's smile grow, slightly, before it fades.

The smaller woman seems to catch on. "Delphine?"

"Cosima..." Her thumb brushes lightly on the other's cheek. "It's been a month and a half, and I still don't remember anything. There is a chance I may never remember. You know that, right?"

She can feel the clenching of that tense jaw under her fingers, the barest of a nod. _So much_ , her actions seem to say.

When did the scale of trust that she imagines in her head tip from Neolution to this woman?

Despite the logical conclusions that Delphine has made since day one of waking up, and despite all odds working against Cosima Niehaus - she wants to trust this girl. And she does. She doesn't even know the exact moment of when her thoughts begin to revolve around this woman, but perhaps it is inevitable.

She moves then, to curl her hand around the back of Cosima's neck, pulling her down a fraction more, and presses a gentle kiss on the forehead. When she leans back, the look that the brunette graces her with is akin to surprise and awe and wonder.

"I don't remember anything," she tells her quietly, "but there is a part of me that knows you, Cosima."

And then the look on Cosima's face--

It makes her heart ache.

. . .

14.

The truth is, Delphine does not know who she should really believe.

Neolution has evidence to back up its claim, but it is also a corporation powerful enough to _create_ evidence out of nothing. Within weeks of her waking up and being briefed of the company structure and process, that is something she knows without a shadow of doubt.

Investigations into her blood, X-Rays and MRI scans have shown nothing - no evidence that she has been tampered with or anything of the such. But human biology is such a complicated thing, with so much more to discover and learn, and Delphine knows there is still a chance that Neolution has done something to her.

On the other hand, this ragtag group of clones offers no evidence, only a burning determination in their frustratingly stubborn demeanor, wild emotions bordering on illogical, and stories that teeter on the improbable (not impossible, as Cosima has pointed out how certain things can happen objectively).

But that is all that they can give - or is perhaps willing to provide.

And Cosima is a variable all on her own that she barely even knows where to place in all of these. The clone, despite everything, is growing on her. The drive, the energy, the passion, the honesty in that gaze - they pull her in like nothing else.

Delphine Cormier has her eyes and ears and rationalization ability to determine who she should believe. But even then, any conclusions found are theories derived from paper trails, electronic records… and stories. Those theories, at the end of the day, are just that -- _theories_.

There is one tangible thing that can provide the absolute truth - her memory.

Except she doesn't have it anymore.

The only thing she has, second only to her memory, is something not bound by the realms of logic - her feelings and instincts. And this is what they tell her with certainty.

Cosima Niehaus is someone she _knows_.

. . .

15.

This is how the story goes.

Time passes, and Delphine Cormier still does not remember anything.

She _recognizes_ , sometimes, but never knows why.

The guard that keeps an eye on her and makes sure she doesn't leave the vicinity of the house where she is locked up in is no longer there at Cosima's demand. But even Delphine knows that it is a very risky move, because this means they are trusting her - and trusting that she really does believe them.

If the blonde wants to, she can leave, go to Neolution, reveal what she learned - of the cure that Cosima has found, of genes and originals that she has discovered since then, of Kira, _everything_ \- and there is no one to stop her from doing so.

It is so risky a move that she voices her question.

"Are you sure? You know what this means, Cosima."

"Yes," Cosima replies, corner of her lips quirking up. "I'm sure."

"...But how can you be sure I won't leave?"

Something flickers in those dark eyes then, something that Delphine has long since learnt that it meant Cosima is remembering something about them that seems to add some sort of weight to her shoulders. She has seen that look too many times, now.

"Trust is a two-way street, Delphine," the clone says at last. "How can I expect you to trust me if I don't trust you?"

The words are said so simply and matter-of-factly that one doesn't normally think further on it. But Delphine has the oddest sensation that that there is more to that - something deep and sad that coils around the woman in front of her like heavy chains.

"Well," Cosima says then, "How about if I just say I'd prefer to start things right between us?"

That, at least, is something Delphine can understand.

And that is that.

. . .

16.

The clock winds, months go by, and this is where they are at now.

They still have no idea what Neolution has done to her (if even anything), and she has no idea if she will ever find out if she had been tempered with. Life goes on, and by extension of Cosima, she is dragged deep into the battle that the clones wage against Neolution.

It's a battle of survival that's so insane, one of a bunch of ragtags against a powerful corporation that pulls too many strings and has too much reach.

Their progress is miniscule, and sometimes it's like taking a step forward and two steps back. Sometimes things get too heated and Delphine retreats into solitude as she wonders if she has chosen the right people to believe in.

Sometimes, Cosima looks at her like she still cannot believe Delphine Cormier is in front of her, and drops her head to rest on the curve of Delphine's collarbone wordlessly.

Once or twice, something like this happens.

She has to will her frame to stop shaking as she tries to steady her breathing.

Half an hour ago, she was digging her hands into Felix's chest to pull out fragments of bullets. There's the scent of smoke from the fire that lingered in the air, and everyone had been in differing states of injuries and disarray when they burst into the house with Delphine staring at them in shock.

Helena is the only one lingering outside, watching and waiting like a wounded, furious animal waiting to pounce on the first victim that dares to approach the house.

Nerves were frayed and emotions was running high.

And now, she is washing away the blood from her hands at the sink in the bathroom, and she can't help but notice how the red fluids has soaked into her clothes.

Felix's blood.

She shudders, grasps the sink with an iron grip, and closes her eyes.

He almost died. If that bullet had went further in by an inch and nicked the artery, she has no idea if she could have done anything for him. Delphine is an immunologist, not a _heart surgeon_.

"Delphine?"

She startles and snaps her head up to stare at the door way.

The blonde stares for a full five seconds before she breathes in deeply and lets the tension in her shoulders uncoil.

"...Cosima."

The clone watches her carefully for a moment. "Are you okay?"

She breathes in again and nods. "Yes." A pause. "Are you?"

"Yeah."

Delphine hasn't actually gotten the chance to inspect the others for injuries, seeing as Felix was the priority. She has time now, though, so she scans that frame for signs of bruises and cuts.

And there is thin line of red by the shoulder, the blood now dry and cracked.

She frowns and gestures at it. "You are hurt."

Cosima twists to look at it, blinking. "Aah… yeah. I grazed against a pipe when we were dragging Felix out of the way."

Delphine shakes her head, and points to the bed outside the bathroom. "Go sit down."

Cosima looks as if she wants to say something, but maybe there's something in her expression that stops it, because the clone turns around wordlessly instead to do as instructed.

There's a few spots of blood by the collar of the clone's wide-neck sweater, and it makes her stare at the retreating back for a long moment.

She breathes in again, rinses off the last remains of Felix's blood on her hands, and grabs the medkit.

For a while, it's silent as Delphine dabs at the graze. Cosima hasn't stopped staring at her, some kind of emotion she can't read burning in the depth of those eyes, but she is ignoring it in favor of focusing on the wound.

Before long, she's sticking gauze and tape on the wound, running a clinical finger over it to ensure that it's secure.

"...Are we good?" Cosima asks then, finally breaking the silence.

She drops the medical items scattered on the bed back into the kit, and nods. "We are good. Keep it dry."

"Okay."

Silence.

Cosima sighs, and curls her hands around Delphine's waist to pull her into a tight hug.

"That was scary," the clone whispers with a weak laugh, forehead pressing against her collarbone.

"Felix will be fine," Delphine says, a gentle hand settling on Cosima's back.

"I know," is the muffled response. "Thank you."

"...What were you guys doing?"

The clone stiffens.

"Cosima?"

The smaller woman detaches herself slowly, leans away, and sighs. "It was a trap."

Delphine frowns. "A trap?"

"Ferdinand," Cosima mumbles, then shakes her head. "Except it wasn't him. He didn't send us that information. Someone from Neolution did to set us up."

Her brows furrow further. "What are you talking about? What information?"

The other chews at her lip, suddenly looking nervous enough that it makes Delphine wary.

"...It's information about what Neolution did to you."

Her jaw drops. " _What?_ "

"It was fake intel!" Cosima says immediately, as if that makes the situation better.

She just stares, stunned and in disbelief.

After a moment, Cosima continues hesitantly. "I think… I think they are searching for you. They are trying to lure you out."

But Delphine is still very much stuck on the point where they had walked into a trap over _her_.

"You - " she stops, feeling emotions bubble up in her chest. She has to clench her fists to remain calm. "Why didn't you tell me?"

The brunette flinches. "It was dangerous. And we weren't sure. We thought it might be a trap, or that you were the real target."

Anger is flooding into her veins. "You knew all these and you went anyway?"

Cosima straightens, a stubborn glint in her gaze. "Yes."

Her jaw clenches. "Your lives are more important than that."

"I had to, Delphine. We need to know if they had done something to you."

She's remembering how they burst into the house with wild emotions in their eyes, how she had to dig into Felix's chest for bullet fragments, and something in her snaps. "I don't care about what they did to me, Cosima! I care about all of you being alive!"

They glare at each other in silence, one angrily, one stubbornly.

Delphine isn't used to being angry.

It clouds her mind, makes it hard to look at a situation objectively, and even more so when Cosima is involved. It makes Delphine want to shake her shoulders hard and somehow drill some sense into this woman and her infuriating sisters and just. Make. Them. _Understand_.

And if that doesn't work, she's going to call Siobhan and make the older woman lock them up until they get it. And if even _that_ doesn't work, she will -

"I can't lose you again."

It's said so quietly, more breath than air, but the look on Cosima's face is so utterly _broken_.

And just like that, her anger vanishes.

"Cosima - "

"For all we know," Cosima cuts in, "you could be a ticking time bomb. Or whatever. We don't know what they did to _you_ , Delphine. You could get sick because of what they had done. You could even _die_. And we won't even know till it hits us because we don't know what they did."

Something in her coils, tightens, making it hard to breathe. _The foolish girl._

"Come here." She reaches out, letting her hands curl around Cosima's face. "Come here."

There's something in Cosima's gaze that she recognizes, something that tells her this - or whatever it is Delphine is doing now - is something that happened before.

But she can't really bring herself to dwell on it now. Her nerves are frayed, there is the scent of blood lingering in the air, and she's barely able to get a grip of the emotions running wild in her veins.

"Delphine - "

She cuts her off with a crushing kiss.

. . .

17.

The relationship they have has begun to border into something more. Something strange. Something wonderful. Something terrifying.

Delphine doesn't really know what to make of it, but she can't deny that Cosima is someone she cares for deeply.

Before she lost her memories, they were monitor and subject, doctor and patient, colleagues, friends, confidante… and there were other things too, Delphine knows, despite that Cosima never tells and she never deems it fit to ask - because is there really a point to knowing anymore when she cannot remember them?

This is her life, now, and it is a life without her previous memories.

It's also something that is filled with many question marks.

For instance - why is Neolution after her? What does she have that they want? What have they done to her? Does it have anything to do with her missing memories? Did they _take_ her memories? If yes, how? Why?

And is she really a ticking time bomb? If yes, how much time does she have left?

There are no answers.

There may never be.

All she has is the present, and it's all she can work with.

The only thing she can do, she has since concluded, is to help the clones in whatever way she can. For as long as she can. She can offer her expertise. Fix the occasional injuries as long as they are not beyond her capabilities. Protect them in what way she can.

And to care for that one person who has grown more dear to her than she thought possible.

Currently, Cosima is resting on the bed - still pale and breathing faintly as a result of the treatment injected into her uterus. It's a harsh, invasive procedure that is slow and long and experimental; one that the brunette tolerates silently despite it being so evident of how much it hurts because it _works_.

"You used to do this all the time," Cosima tells her quietly, their foreheads touching.

"This?" she asks from where she is seated by the bed - only she's been leaning forward and half resting on the bed to bring them close as she tries to soothe her with a gentle hand curled around Cosima's own.

Cosima leans back, and taps at Delphine's forehead gently with a faint, light and warm smile. "This. Touching our foreheads together. It's like a thing with you."

She watches her for a moment, thumb pressing gently on the inner side of Cosima's wrist. "You don't like it?"

The grip Cosima has on her hand tightens marginally. "I do."

Her lips quirks up. "So I shouldn't stop?"

"No... never. Okay?"

"Okay."

. . .

18.

Delphine Cormier is a scientist, and like all scientists, piecing things together from an experiment to prove or disprove a hypothesis is something she has done repeatedly over the years. Even if she does not remember learning it or actually doing it, it comes to her like instinct and muscle memory.

So inevitably, this question is bound to come up -- it is just a matter of _when_ , and today is that day.

"Were we lovers?"

"...Yes."

"And you still...?"

"I don't think I ever stopped."

"Even though I don't remember you? Don't remember us?"

"Even then. And that's still better than being dead. If you were dead…"

"I'm here. You didn't give up on me."

"I almost did."

"But you didn't. You found me."

"It was Sarah who found you, you know."

"But she did it for you, no?"

"...Yeah."

"And here we are."

"...You know that I love you, right?"

"Yes. I think I may have always known all this time."

"Was I that obvious?"

"Quite."

"Are you teasing me?"

"I am."

"... _Delphine_."

A faint smile touches on the blonde's lips.

"Cosima," she says then. "I don't know how much I loved you. I don't remember it. But… I did, yes?"

A wordless nod is all the other responds with.

There's something dark that flits past those eyes again, making her wonder if there will ever be a time when sadness no longer haunts this burdened woman.

She doesn't think it will be anytime soon, not with Neolution haunting them, and not with the question marks surrounding her own life. All she can do, wants to do, is lighten the burden that Cosima has - be it by shouldering parts of it, or by putting the light back into that gaze whenever she can, or just… cherishing her.

How deeply did Delphine Cormier feel for Cosima Niehaus?

It's something she probably will never know for sure unless her memories return.

Despite that, there's something in her that thinks it must have been a deep, deep love that was raw and wholehearted, encompassing and soul-consuming.

She is still Delphine Cormier after all, even without memories.

"Cosima?"

"Hm?"

"I do, too. I love you."

"Oh. That's… you - you do?"

"Yes. I do. _Je t'aime_."

 .

 .

.

_Fin._

. . .

A/N - So… This is my overly ambitious one-shot attempt at addressing the elephant in the room, which is Delphine getting shot. Major thanks to [carmcakes](http://carmcakes.tumblr.com/) at tumblr for volunteering to beta and the super, super fast beta-ing.

There's also a lot of things I'd like to say... but it's going to turn into a ramble if I do. So I guess I'll just say this -- if we have a canon date for when Delphine got shot, please tell me and I'll update the date accordingly. It's sort of randomly picked at the moment. Felix will also probably turn the bullet fragment into a necklace and strut around wearing it.

I hope this fic delivered like I wanted it to. Feedbacks, critiques,etc - they are all greatly appreciated.

Come find me on tumblr ([iriesis](http://iriesis.tumblr.com/)). I need more Cophine people to stalk and talk to. :(


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